


A Confession

by Darazelly



Series: A Collection of Moments [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 21:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3462497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darazelly/pseuds/Darazelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan is uncertain of whether to take the leap and confess her feelings to Cullen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Confession

”Okay, enough is enough, spit it out!”

Startled by the rough voice, she almost tossed her book over her shoulder. Wide-eyed Elshira looked up at Dorian, taking in the frown on his face. He snapped his book shut with a loud thud and put it away on the small table, levelling her with a scrutinizing stare.

“What is enough?” she asked, managing to sound casual as she turned her attention back to the book in her lap. It was one of brother Genitivi’s, on the history of Andraste's rebellion and the aftermath of it. She had looked forward to reading it, but...

“You. Or rather, whatever that is on your mind.”

She glanced up at him, but when she didn’t respond he raised an eyebrow at her. The look reminded her far too much of the one her brother would give her whenever he were about to give her a piece of his mind.

Heat crawled up the back of her neck as she cleared her throat. While busying herself with marking the page, she tried to think of a way to steer the conversation away from the encroaching subject. “It’s nothing.”

Dorian scoffed. “You’ve been staring on that same page for five minutes.”

“Maybe it’s an interesting page.” Smooth. Thank the Creators that Josephine handled the diplomats.

Dorian gave her a look. “Eli, please. Don’t insult my wonderful intellect by thinking I’d buy that.” Then his eyes softened and he tilted his head to the side. “What’s on your mind?”

Elshira sighed and with a frustrated movement slammed the book shut as she sagged into the chair. “It’s… I don’t know what it is…” she muttered, frowning. She glanced at the people gathered in the library, even though it was evening. If they were going to have this conversation, she wasn't sure if the library was the best place for it. Even if his corner of it was relatively private.

Dorian must have caught her look, for he stood up from his armchair and extended a hand to her in invitation. “A walk then, perhaps?”

With a small smile she nodded and accepted his hand, letting him pull her up from the chair. Together, they headed down the stairs and greeted Solas in passing. The elf glanced down from where he was perched atop the scaffolding with a paintbrush in hand, and nodded in return. Beyond, the hall was bustling with activity, and they managed to slip through the mass of soldiers coming in to eat with relative ease and make their escape out to the gardens. To her relief, the outdoors area seemed empty aside from a few guards.

They slowed their pace as they walked across the garden. Dorian lowered his head, his voice low and conspiratory as he spoke. “Now, what’s so worrisome that it has the Inquisitor of all people spacing out? What could possibly be worse than one of the dreaded magisters of old?”

She shot him a sideways look. “You haven’t even heard what it is and you’re already questioning my priorities? Ser Pavus, I’m wounded.”

Dorian snorted. “My dear, if it had to do with all this Corypheus business, you’d be arguing with your advisors over what to do about it and not sit and stare blankly at the pages of a book.” He gesticulated with his hand. “You'd probably... sic the Commander on it or something.”

Elshira glanced at the mage, “Cullen is good at what he does.”

Dorian slowed his steps, and the two of them came to a stop by the stairs leading up to the battlements. He narrowed his eyes at her defensive tone and slowly a knowing grin spread on his lips. 

“Does this have anything to do with the good commander then?” he asked while studying her.

She crossed her arms, her eyebrows knit together in a frown while she tried not to squirm under his gaze. “Why would-“

“Because you have been tip-toeing around him since Haven.”

Her words died on her tongue in a strangled noise. Heat spread up the back of her neck and across her ears and cheeks in what must be a luminous blush. Had she been that obvious?

“Fine,” she muttered, seeing no point in trying to hide it from the mage. With a frustrated sigh she turned to continue towards the stairs. “It is.”

Dorian chuckled as he kept even steps with her. “Well then, what’s the issue?”

“You mean aside from that I feel like some scatter-brained teen whenever I look at my military commander?”

“Yes?”

“Well there’s aforementioned darkspawn magister with a god-complex on the loose for one thing, Orlais is facing civil war, and the Wardens are being far more secretive than usual and on top of all things, the cook’s out of powdered sugar. Whatever shall we do?”

“Eli.”

Elshira sighed and paused at the top of the stairs, turning to look out over the Frostbacks as she fiddled with her hands. It was a gorgeous view in the rosy sunset light, but one she was unable to enjoy with the anxious, conflicting thoughts going through her head. A firm hand squeezed her shoulder and she turned her attention back to Dorian.

“Don’t tell me there’s some dashing hunter in the Free Marshes, waiting with bated breath for his lady to return victorious?”

He spoke in jest, his tone light and teasing, but she couldn’t prevent the reflexive wince at his words.

Dorian didn't miss it, of course. His mirth disappeared as a frown settled over his face. “Wait, is that why you’re so wound up about this, is it?”

“I used to be married.”

The words just tumbled out of her mouth. With a grimace, she glanced at Dorian, and as she had expected, his eyes had gone wide in surprise. The silence hung over them like a thick blanket for several seconds.

“Really?”

A humorless laugh erupted from her chest at his shock. “That hard to believe? I’m 33, Dorian; I didn’t just materialize out of thin air at the Conclave.”

Dorian hummed as he studied her, his eyes curious but cautious. “Used to?” he asked slowly, as if not sure whether he was about to step out on thin ice or not.

Elshira gave him a weak smile, touched by his concern. “He died. It is many years ago now.” She hugged her midsection and turned her attention back to the mountains while slowly walking over to the battlements. “Back when the Blight started in Ferelden, refugees swarmed up towards the Free Marshes. Soon every city along the coast was full with people fleeing, as you likely know from Varric’s stories about Hawke.”

Dorian came to stand next to her. “Yes, so he’s told.”

“Well, as you can imagine, work was in short supply and most lived in poverty. Many turned to banditry, moving further into the Marshes in fear of the Blight spreading.” Elshira swallowed around the lump in her throat, forcing down the old memories that threatened to resurface. “He and I were scouting ahead of our clan when we got attacked by a group of them. We managed to kill some of them, but they outnumbered us either way. We both tried to fight back, they hurled around the usual jeers about knife ears and savages, taunting him about what they’d do with me-” 

“Eli, you don’t have to tell m-“ 

She held up a hand to silence him. “Let me finish, please. I-I... need to...” When Dorian gave her a brief nod, she took a deep breath, steeling herself. “One of them got fed up and put a knife to my throat and my bond-mate… he just… let them hail down blows and kicks on him. And then one of them slit his throat. Just like that.” Tears prickled at her eyes as the remnants of old pains reemerged along with the memory of grey eyes giving her one last gentle look before growing dull. “I’ve never… felt that useless in my life.”

“They didn’t touch you, did they?” Dorian asked, anger brimming under the calm, steady surface of his voice.

Elshira shook her head. “No, they never got the chance to… to get… that far. The other scouts attacked shortly afterwards. Must have heard the yelling. I don’t know how long I clung to his body until they managed to pry me loose and lead me back to the clan.”

They stood in silence, one that bordered between comfortable and strained. It felt good to tell someone, like a small burden was off her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Dorian finally murmured. After a moment of hesitation, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

Elshira rested her head on his shoulder. “No need to. It’s over ten years since it happened. I’ve mourned already. But thank you. For… listening. Everyone in my clan treat me like a piece of glass regarding the subject.”

A small smile twitched at the corner of Dorian’s mouth. “Ah, glass is the last thing I’d associate you with.”

“Considering the beatings I take to keep you and the others out of harm, I’d sure hope so.”

They shared a laugh, the mood growing a bit lighter as they pulled a part.

“Well, I can see why you’d be a bit… hesitant I guess.”

Elshira grimaced, all the awkward, conflicting feelings coming back at the reminder of the subject that had brought them out there in the first place. “It’s not the entire reason. I mourned, I moved on, I’ve fallen into the bed of a couple other men over the years. I just… don’t know if…” She took a deep breath, releasing it as a somber laugh as she leaned back against a merlon. “Humans. If this were my clan I’d hand him a pelt from an animal I’ve felled to inquire about his interest.”

Dorian snorted. “Now there’s a mental image.” He grunted when she gave him a light whack on the chest with the back of her hand. “Well, talk to him. Ask him.”

Elshira glanced up at Dorian, her expression tentative. “He’s my commander; I don’t… if he doesn’t feel the same I risk ruining a professional relation. And a good friendship.” Then she gestured to her face and ears with a frown. “And I’m Dalish, my clan would most likely disapprove of such a relationship. Some of the People would already claim I’m a flat-eared lapdog of the Chantry…”

He tilted his head to the side, studying her as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you remember what you said after that business with my father?”

“I said a lot of things after that business with your father, none of them pretty.”

Dorian chuckled at the memory of her colorful language as they had left the tavern. It had been the angriest he’d seen her to date. “You told me that you thought I was brave to walk away from tradition.” 

A small, hesitant smile tugged at the edge of her lips. “And… what if it bothers him that I’m elven?”

“My dear, he doesn’t seem bothered by it.” There was an amused, knowing twinkle in Dorian’s eyes. “As you say, you’re already friends and I’ve never seen him speak a harsh word to anyone." Dorian paused. "Well, except his recruits, but they seem to bring it on themselves. He seems tolerant enough of me. But then, with my charming personality, who in their right mind wouldn't be.”

Elshira chuckled. “Ah, the great ser Pavus, what would we do without you?”

“Lose this entire war, that’s what.”

“Oh I bow humbly to your expertise.”

“Go ahead, that’ll fuel the ‘he’s corrupting her into serving Tevinter, for sure’ rumors.”

A light laugh bubbled up from her chest at the reminder of the, frankly often outrageous, rumors that circulated about them.

Dorian chuckled, sharing her amusement. “But Eli, talk to Cullen. He’s a reasonable man.”

She bit her lip, a nervous habit she’d never gotten over. “I know he is, I just… it’s so many things. We’re at war, and I need to leave here all the time for weeks on end and… I’m not interested in just a quick roll in the hay.”

Dorian patted her shoulder. “He doesn’t strike me as the type who would be either. Talk to him tomorrow, take a chance. With all this, what is it Varric says, ‘crazy shit’ happening to you, you deserve something good to come out of it.” Then the mage clapped his hands together. “Now, I suggest we find our way to the tavern and get something warm and preferably alcoholic to drink.”

 

Her steps were slow as she walked over the bridge from the keep, her eyes fixed on his door. In her head, she went over what to say while wringing her fingers. Keep it light, but direct, but don’t make it seem accusatory. She wasn’t about to accuse him of attempting to seduce her or something. Or seem too clingy. Or too assumptive. Taking a deep breath Elshira knocked on the sun-warmed wood, waiting with bated breath until there was a muffled reply from the other side. She nudged the door open enough to lean inside.

“Bad time?” she asked, forcing herself to sound casual.

Cullen looked up from his spot behind his desk, a small smile spreading on his lips at the sight of her. He shook his head as he stood up straight. “Of course not, Inquisitor. Come in.”

She found herself smiling in return as she slipped inside and closed the door behind her. There were two other soldiers present, bent over some maps at the far end of Cullen’s desk. She bit her lip and glanced at them while clasping her hands behind her back. Nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she met Cullen’s eyes.

“I… was wondering if we could talk. Alone.”

The soldiers looked up, first at her and then at their commander, but Cullen paid them no heed. He was busy looking at her with such surprised confusion that she was certain there was a sign hanging around her neck that announced her intentions for everyone to see. She felt the sudden urge to blurt out an excuse and make a retreat, but fought it down, instead focusing on Cullen.

“Alone? I mean, uh, of course.” Had it been Inquisition related business, she would just have told the soldiers she needed to have a word with him in private. He knew that.

Elshira ignored the curious look the two soldiers exchanged and instead motioned towards the door to her right. When they stepped out on the battlements, a heavy silence fell over them. She tried to gather her thoughts, unsure of how to begin, but they slipped away like sand between her fingers. Soldiers greeted them as they walked along in the sun, making their way around to the gardens. It was hardly as private as she’d hoped.

Mythal guide her, what had she gotten herself into.

“It’s a nice day.”

“What?” she blurted in response, startled out of her thoughts by his voice. She almost missed the nervous quiver to it as he spoke and felt like kicking herself. Talk to him. She was a grown woman, not some unsure teen. Yet the unfamiliarity without her people and traditions felt strange and intimidating.

Cullen watched her with an uncertain look in his eyes as he scratched the back of his neck. Probably thought she’d gone completely mad. “I… there was something you wished to discuss.”

Elshira swallowed around the lump in her throat, her mouth all of sudden feeling too dry. Was the sun really supposed to feel this warm? She glanced away, unable to meet his eyes as she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt sleeve. Here was the last chance to make an excuse and leave, to hide behind the stoic Inquisitor persona again.  
She took a deep breath. “I-I… I find myself thinking of you. More… ah well, all the time really.” She looked down at the stones of the battlements. If she wished hard enough, could she make the rocks swallow her up on the spot?

It felt like the seconds stretched on for an eternity in a painful wait for what she was sure would be a gentle but firm decline from him. A call for friendship, something valued but certainly never the same again after her confession.

“I… can’t say I haven’t imagined how it’d be.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words and her eyes snapped back to him. To her surprise, he was looking at her with a soft, partly tentative partly hopeful expression. Vulnerable. It wasn’t a word she’d come to associate with him, yet that’s what sprung to mind. It felt like he was laying a well-hidden part of himself bare before her.

“What’s stopping you?” she asked softly, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.

Cullen shook his head and walked over to the battlements, resting a hand on a merlon that had long since crumbled to waist height. “You’re the Inquisitor! We’re at war, and…” Her heart dropped at his words even as she followed to stand by him. She should have known their professional relationship should come first. While wrestling down the disappointment in her chest, she opened her mouth to assure him it was no problem, that she should have put the Inquisition first.

“I didn’t think it was possible.” He turned back to look at her, and she shut her mouth with a click while her knees went weak at the unguarded, affectionate look he gave her.

With a small, hesitant smile Elshira met his gaze. “And yet I’m still here.”

Cullen moved closer, his fingertips light on the curve of her hips, like he were afraid she’d startle like a deer under his touch. He’d never gone easy on her in the training field, she hadn't let him, and over the past months, they’d left more than a fair share of bruises on each other. But to feel him hold her so carefully felt… good. Different, like she wasn't the Herald or the Inquisitor to him, a religious figure to honor but not touch. He held her like he could see the woman under those titles so abruptly bestowed upon her.

“So you are…” he murmured. Everything seemed to shrink down to them. The howl of the wind and the noises from the courtyard grew muted as all she was aware of was his low voice, so different from the assertive tone he usually spoke with, and the intimate closeness of his body. “It seems like too much to ask. But I want to-“

She barely dared to breathe as he dipped his head, her eyes drifting close.

“Commander!” The slamming of a door accompanied the loud, intrusive voice.

They both jerked apart as if burned. Elshira leaned back against the crumbled merlon, digging her fingers into the weather worn stone while struggling to not swear in frustration. It was always someone, something. Cullen straightened to his full height, the disappointment on his face shifting into a scowl. She looked past him to the approaching scout. It seemed like he had been looking down on his report and had thus not seen what he had interrupted. Not that it stopped the telltale heat of a blush from spreading across her cheeks and ears like wildfire. But whether it was from the interruption or the last brush of Cullen’s hands on her hips, she wasn’t sure.

Cullen stepped away from her to face his subordinate. “What,” he growled, the glare evident in his voice.

The scout looked up in surprise, his eyes going a little wide at the sight of his commander. “Sister Leliana’s report, ser. You said you wanted it right away,” he stammered in explanation, his eyes darting from Cullen to her.

Mortified, Elshira ducked her head and looked away. Creators, strike her down right now. A tense silence followed as the two men seemed to have a silent exchange.

“Or… to your office then!” She heard the scout hurry off, judging by his footsteps doing his best to not break into an outright run. The sound of the door to the tower opening and quickly closing announced his departure, but she didn’t dare to look up at Cullen.

Elshira bit her lip while reeling in her disappointment. Her heart was still racing, the anxious knot in her chest making it hard to breathe. Duty called, it seemed. “If you have to-“

Her words died in a surprised gasp when he all of sudden were back in front of her. He buried his fingers in her hair and by reflex she tilted her head back to look up at him, allowing him to finally catch her lips in a kiss.

Stunned, it took her a couple of seconds to register what was going on. It was a firm, borderline desperate, press of lips, but his hands were light in their touch. If she wanted to, she could pull away and break it off without him stopping her. But the thought were far from her mind. With a small sigh she closed her eyes and melted into his embrace, inhaling the familiar scent of fur, incense and sandalwood that surrounded him. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his coat and tilted her head back further, pressing herself closer to him as the kiss grew deeper. There was a vague taste of spices and apples on his lips. He seemed relieved of her response, more confident as he cradled her closer, his movements more assured. He kissed her like he was trying to pour months of pent up feelings into it, reined in and overpowering all at once.

With a slight gasp, they broke apart.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. He glanced away before almost shyly meeting her gaze. “That was… really nice,” he sighed, his thumbs stroking the naked skin behind her ears.

“You don’t regret it, do you?” she hesitantly asked, dreading that he’d see it as a lapse in judgment.

His eyes went wide, his fingers just for the fraction of a second pressing against the back of her neck. “No! No, not at all…”

Then he inclined his head again to slowly, reverently kiss her as his left hand dropped to the small of her back and tugged her closer. She smiled against his lips while lifting a hand to his cheek, the graze of his stubble rough against her fingertips. A happy, fluttering feeling she hadn’t felt in years spread through her chest, warm and energizing.

It felt right. Like he was fitting back a piece of herself that she thought she had lost long ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I've taken to writing in the mornings as a stress reliever and practise at writing in english. It's not my first language, and grammar isn't exactly high up on the priority list when just idly chatting with people, so yeah. Felt it didn't turn out half bad so I thought I'd post it.


End file.
